The Nice Postie

As a short-term solution before putting any plants in the gaps allowing for the shortcut, I had put bamboo sticks up around the sprinklers so that they could be spotted easily and collisions with them avoided, which also meant they were more likely not to be damaged again.

(Microsoft Media)

And as expected, the postie was back the following day during late morning. Hearing him come by the unmistakable roar of his motorbike - oh, I have learnt to tell the sounds of roaring bikes apart as much as the bark of various dogs, and I've come to dislike them all by now, in particular the ones that bark for no particular reason and at night - I peeped out between two blinds feeling a little foolish but reminding myself that early-bird wildlife spotters would have to do similar things if they wanted to watch rare and skittish wild beasts in the woods.

I don't wish to make any allusions here, saying that posties are rare beasts, while the rarity would only apply to their presence in well-defined territories, but maybe mine might be a little skittish by now and even get scared at my unconcealed presence in the window frame, but then again, much like the wildlife spotters, I needed to find out what the postie was going to do without knowing he was being watched.

He even had a delivery for me, which was going to make my watch even more interesting. I saw him approach the letterbox and in heightened suspense I watched him put something in and then, to my utter surprise, turn his bike around and on along the driveway he whizzed and back up towards the kerb, and then further down the street.

He hadn't crossed the lawn and instead I was beginning to feel a strange pang of guilt. Had I made his day any harder? But then again, he had made me fix a sprinkler, which had taken a lot longer than turning around a motorbike and driving alongside the kerb.

(Microsoft ClipArt)

But then again, I was feeling guilty enough to spare a minute and think about the postie and see the situation from his perspective. Maybe, he wasn't all that ruthless after all. On our side of the street there is no sidewalk, make that "pavement" depending on where you are, though some sidewalks might not even be paved but tarmacked, and delivering mail on this side meant a lot of driving up and down driveways.

Just imagine being a postie and driving down a driveway, putting a letter or two in a box, turn around your bike, or, depending, make a three- or five-point turn, drive up again, turn left (as in this country where people drive on the left side of the street), dash over to the next driveway, squeeze the bike's brakes, turn left, drive down to the next letterbox, make one of several kinds of turn, drive up again, all while on the other side of the same street you only needed to go and stop from one box to the next, all on the same pavement, tarmacked, paved or otherwise.

This will consume more fuel, it will ruin the brake pads much earlier, and it takes more time before you're done with streets like that. I was beginning to sympathize with the postie. I was contemplating putting a "Welcome" sign up next to the driveway. This also made me think about putting letterboxes right up there next to the kerb. Wouldn't that make the postie's life so much easier?

But shifting the letterbox, tightly anchored in the ground where it stood, up the three odd metres to the kerb was a bit of an exercise, it could even be costly, and would Council allow this? It would be beyond the property line after all, and for good reasons, too, for instance, if there were road works to be done and people might have to use a bit of the sidewalk on the other side or the lawns on this side to get around, the letterbox might be in the way or get damaged or knocked over.
It was all becoming too complicated and far too confusing. I was beginning to feel dizzy and was longing for a cup of coffee.

No, I decided, I'd leave it like that for the time being. If the postie wanted to use the lawn, I thought, please go ahead, as long as you stay clear of the sprinklers, which I'd leave clearly marked by bamboo sticks, which didn't look that bad after all.

Let this be the Land of careful Smiles.